Shelka the Shadowmoon Exile
Summary A bit of backstory on Shelka, an important character in later parts of Hordecraft. This story should be considered a precursor to Hordecraft, as it features parts of Shelka, Shigra and Griya's stories. Content warning for mentions of torture, though there isn't really any detail to it. Shelka The Shadowmoon Exile As the Dark Portal neared its completion, Shelka watched from her far away hiding spot upon a parched cliff of Hellfire Peninsula as her children lent their powers to the hunchback warlock who would damn the orcs to whatever grim fate lay beyond their world. There was a time when she too had believed in him– his tales of a lush and lively world that existed within their grasp had excited her people of the Shadowmoon clan. There was a time when Gul’dan had been one of them, and through his determination to excel as Ner’zhul’s apprentice he had even begun to win the clan’s respect. As one of the clan’s shaman, Shelka had been among the first taught to master the fel. She had been good at it– and indeed still was– but the beautiful dream she and so many of her people had blindly pursued turned out to be one that must be bought with innocent blood. They were small from this vantage point, but Shelka recognised her children instantly, magically aged as they were. There weren’t many half-orcs who had survived the pilgrimage to what had once been Tanaan Jungle, perhaps a handful at most. Shelka’s half-orc twins were among them. The eldest, Shigra, was perhaps the most successful cross of orc and draenei blood seen so far. She towered above everyone, a full head taller than even the largest orcs, and upon that head sprouted curved, green horns and a partial crest. There were other horned hybrids, but Shigra had been the only one to be born to the Shadowmoon clan. Before they had learned of the existence of others some called her “The Horned Orc”, and a handful still did. The younger twin, Griya, limped behind her sister on legs warped by mismatched genes. She was small and thin, and aside from her green skin, high nose and little fangs barely resembled an orc at all. But what she lacked physically she more than made up for in tenacity. She was not as powerful as her sister in any aspect, but she fought hard for some impossible goal that she someday would surpass Shigra. Shelka suspected that this dream was being encouraged by Gul’dan, or whichever orcs he assigned to watch over the twins. They were not his favourites– that honour went solely to Garona, who held a place in Gul’dan’s Stormreaver clan– but they were useful to him nonetheless. Shelka watched silently as the twins made their way through the droves of orcs gathered by the portal. Some orcs moved aside for them while others made threatening advances only to be smacked by Shigra’s staff or, if they were particularly aggressive, head-butted with force aplenty to cave their skulls in. The elder twin was monstrous. Griya, however, trailed along through the openings that Shigra made, leaning heavily on her own staff for support. It was easy to lose sight of her in the crowd. Shelka sighed, wiping sweat from her forehead. It was another scorching day in Hellfire Peninsula, and it made her dreadfully miss the cool breezes of Shadowmoon Valley. Well, an older Shadowmoon Valley. Her home was very different now. But she had heard that Nagrand was still relatively alive, though it would mean potentially dealing with the Mag’har. She could turn back now and live out her days in peaceful exile there, hunting talbuks and turning a cave into a cosy dwelling. But she would not leave yet. Not without her daughters. Her plan was a simple, if dangerous one. She would sneak into the camp under the cover of night and retrieve her children. There were many pitfalls with the idea– for one thing, there was no guarantee she would be able to enter the camp without being recognised. The majority of the Shadowmoon orcs were tucked away to one side of the camp, far from where the hybrids were kept, but it was entirely possible that a Shadowmoon orc would be on guard duty tonight, making a confrontation very likely. The other, perhaps more pressing problem was that it was possible that Shigra and Griya would attack her. The last time she saw them was when they were babies, held safely in her arms. They would not recognise her, she was sure, and the magic Gul’dan used to age them might also have been used to make certain they would despise her if they were to meet again. Shelka was quite sure she could take Griya in a fight, but Shigra was another story. Her best option was to try to talk with her daughters and explain herself, explain that Gul’dan was a traitor and a liar who would throw their lives away without a second thought. They would either understand, or Shelka would die trying to save them. On the very small chance that both Shigra and Griya decided to trust her, she would then begin the difficult task of escorting them out of the camp safely. She could pretend to be a guard, steer clear of Shadowmoon territory and hope that no one thinks to question her in action. As plans go, Shelka had to admit that this was probably her worst one yet. But she was not going to let her children be taken to an alien world of Gul’dan’s choosing without a fight. — Night fell over Hellfire Peninsula, but the darkened sky did nothing to ease the stifling heat in the air. The orcs, drowsy and uncomfortable, retreated to their makeshift tents to eat and sleep as begrudging guards began their nighttime patrols. Shelka crept closer to the camp, using the closing darkness to conceal herself. She waited patiently for every last non-patrolling orc to crawl into their tents before facing the first danger head-on. She stepped into the flickering light cast by a dying fire on the outskirts of the camp, territory she believed was held by the Frostwolf clan. Her chances of survival would be highest were she caught here, as it was common knowledge that their chieftain, Durotan, was critical and wary of Gul’dan. His people would be the most open to sympathising with her plight, Shelka thought. But as she moved through the sleeping campsite, she encountered not a single Frostwolf. She heard heavy breathing and snoring within the tents as the orcs slumbered. Fortune on her side so far, she pressed on– but it ran out almost immediately. Shadows moved and a bone knife was at her throat, the cackling orc at her back smelling of blood and dirt. Shelka froze, but did not hold her hands up in surrender, she merely grunted in annoyance, as though she was supposed to be there and this orc was wrongly inconveniencing her. “What is the meaning of this?” she snapped, careful to keep her voice down so as not to wake the Frostwolfs. The cackling grew louder, the blade at Shelka’s neck pinching the skin. “''Shelkaaaaa''… you’re not supposed to be here, Shelka… what would Gul’dan think, hmm? Ooh, I think he’d be quite upset with you.” Shelka bristled. She would recognise that rasping voice anywhere– Azoga. A thin-faced Bleeding Hollow runt Shelka had had the displeasure of meeting in battle on multiple occasions. Azoga viewed her as sort of nemesis after she had slain her worthless excuse of a brother, who had trespassed on sacred Shadowmoon grounds to steal bones for some potion or poultice. Azoga was slipperier than her brother, and though her quest for revenge had so far been unsuccessful she had escaped Shelka’s wrath every time. It was strange to find Azoga here with the Horde– Shelka had always assumed they would find her too small to fight– but evidently her cunning must have been worth something to them. Shelka sighed, annoyed. She had been preoccupied with staying quiet and had let her guard down. Azoga was the last person she wanted to reason with, but it was her only choice. If she made a move to cast a spell, the knife against her skin would sink deeper and that would be the end. “No, Azoga, I’m not meant to be here,” she replied stiffly. “And believe me, were it possible to avoid it I would not be here at all. But there is something I have to do.” Azoga chuckled behind her. “Is there, now? Hmm… does it have anything to do with your half-breed daughters, perhaps? Or did you think you’d be able to slip in here undetected and cut Gul’dan’s throat while he sleeps? Either way, those are very bad things and would get you in a lot of trouble.” This wasn’t going fantastically so far, but Shelka persevered. “You were right the first time. I… I wanted to see my children one last time before they go.” The smaller orc hummed in mock-thought. Shelka wasn’t sure it was even possible for Azoga to exercise any sort of critical thinking. “So you want me to let you go, is that it?” Azoga eventually said. There was a slight lilt in her voice Shelka did not like at all. Shelka sighed. “Yes. I know it is a tall ask, but–” “Okay,” said Azoga. Shelka faltered. “What?” “Okay,” Azoga repeated. She retracted the knife and shoved Shelka forward. “Go.” This was unexpected. Shelka turned around to see just what Azoga was doing, but the little woman was gone, retreated once again to the shadows. “…Strange,” Shelka murmured. But she could not waste time dwelling on it. She continued on, leaving the Frostwolf territory and moving through that of the one of the Blackrock camps not far away. Beyond there she reached the Bleeding Hollow camp, and within sight now were the hybrids’ tents. There were some Bleeding Hollow orcs awake in the encampment; three of them sitting around a campfire and chatting away in their jungle dialect. Shelka gave them a brief glance, noting that Azoga was not among them. There were two males and a female, all sporting white body paint and decorated with bones and beads. One male was much larger than the other, and though young wore a long, white braid that ran the length of his back and reached the dirt they sat on. They ignored her completely as she approached, waiting until the last moment until the white-haired male jumped to his feet and slammed a fist the size of an infant into Shelka’s midsection. She gasped in pain and staggered back, struggling to pull her staff free from its bindings in her surprise. The other two orcs stood too and surrounded her, the female now carrying a stone-tipped spear while the other male remained unarmed. They were all grinning, feral pleasure gleaming in their eyes. It was then that Shigra realised they had been waiting for her, they had planned this. And then, as if on cue, Azoga’s rasping cackle came again. The pale runt slipped out from one of the tents and linked her arm around the biggest male, a poisonous smile on her thin face. “I told one of Gul’dan’s warlocks she’s here, Korgul,” she purred. “He’ll be here soon. I wonder what sort of reward we’ll get– something good, probably!” The male– Korgul– patted Azoga’s shoulder, a smile stretching around his large tusks. “Beating this orc within an inch of her life will be enough of a reward for me.” And beat Shelka he did, assisted by the two other Bleeding Hollow orcs trapping her there. Once she was sure Shelka was down and not getting up again, Azoga took her turn, scraping away with her knife until Shelka’s face was unrecognisable. Shelka fought back at first, but once her staff was thrown from her reach and both wrists broken there was little she could do to stave them off. Lying on her side, bruised and bloody and barely conscious, Shelka had the briefest glimpse of the dusty robes of Shadow Council warlocks skimming across the dry ground before darkness claimed her. When she woke again some time later, she all but begged the darkness to claim her again, permanently. Category:Stories